The Death Dealer - The Complete Series

by Katie Roman

  Sal shrugged. “Grace is Glenbard stock now, and there's no shame in that, missy.” Grace thought Sal had more to say, but in the interest of peace she held her tongue. Though later, Sal caught Grace's eye and gave her a slight nod.

  Six

  Another week dragged by, and each day Grace waited patiently for the promised signal. Each night she went to sleep clinging to the hope that tomorrow would be the day. As the days went by, her muscles became more used to carting rocks from place to place, though her mind wandered endlessly at the tedium. If Smythe caught her staring wistfully at the horizon, the guard would raise her whip. Immediately Grace returned her attention to the task at hand.

  It was at lunch one day that Grace finally saw something out of the ordinary; a mass of black clouds off shore. Over the beach the day was still clear and blue, with the sun beating down on them, but the clouds moved rapidly inland, accenting the sky with flashes of blue lightning. All the prisoners sat watching it. Even Smythe and her fellow guards were mesmerized by the scene.

  “Should we seek shelter?” asked Charlotte.

  “It's still hours off,” Smythe said, though she didn't sound convinced. “If the warden calls us in, we'll go, but until then you'll continue your work.”

  The prisoners were herded back to work, but everyone kept a wary eye on the horizon. The storm moved faster and faster over the next hour. At one point, Grace stopped unloading rocks to look up as it rolled overhead. For a split second the clouds took on the face of a wolf's head, but almost as quickly, the image disappeared.

  “Someone tell the warden we're coming in,” Smythe yelled at the guards on the cliff, the ones with their crossbows trained on the prisoners. “This storm is going to break any minute,” she said more quietly, to Grace and the carter only. “We'll have to take them through the jungle. It's not safe to take the cliff road back.”

  A few droplets began falling from the sky, then the clouds split completely open and the world was shrouded in the downpour. It was hard to see even a few feet in front of her face, but Grace turned herself in the direction of the jungle and ran. Behind her, Smythe blew her tin whistle to alert the others of a runaway, but the shrill whistle's tone was lost in the sound of the rain.

  Grace broke through the trees, staying just to the left of the road. Branches hit her face and arms as she barreled through the jungle with no idea where she was headed. Overhead, the rain lessened and eventually the sun appeared through the black clouds. The trees kept much of the light out, but it was enough for Grace to see more than a few feet ahead. Behind her there was a path of destruction from her body plowing through the jungle. Now she could hear the tin whistles clearer and the shouts of the guards in pursuit.

  Wasting no more time surveying her surroundings, Grace found a tree that looked easy to scale. Up into the heights she went, finally resting on a branch that was thick enough to support her. A colorful bird landed overhead and squawked in irritation. Grace threw a twig at it, scaring it to another tree.

  Below her she heard her pursuers. Smythe and two more guards with crossbows walked slowly up the road, while another guard followed the path Grace had cut through the jungle.

  “Her trail stops here,” the guard off the road said. Grace flattened herself against the branch, not even daring to breathe.

  “She must have come to the road,” Smythe said. Grace could see the guard scanning the treetops, but her eyes passed over Grace's tree without a second look. “She's headed for Dellhurst. You,” Smythe called, pointing at one of the crossbow guards. “Run ahead and see if you can overtake her. If not, warn the guards in town that we've got a runaway. You two,” she added, turning to her other companions. “Keep looking for signs on the road. Let no broken twig or rustle in the trees go uninvestigated. I'm heading back to Traitor's Bay. I will deliver this news to the warden myself.” Although Smythe sounded nervous, she straightened her spine and turned back the way she came.

  Grace stayed immobile, watching the cluster of guards disperse. The two guards designated to slowly follow the road loitered for a while, checking every inch of the land and making small talk. Finally, they headed up toward Dellhurst.

  The young woman rested her head on her hands. Dellhurst was the only town she had seen since arriving on Nareroc. It was a small place that existed solely to support the prison. The road from Traitor's Bay led there, which meant she would have to pass through in order to get to other towns. Grace closed her eyes and waited for an epiphany.

  ~*~*~

  Something warm slithered across Grace's leg, forcing her back to the waking world. She gasped and kicked her leg out and a bright green thing hissed and slithered away. Grace ran a hand over her head. Under her peach fuzz hair she felt tiny bumps where little bugs had decided to feast on her scalp.

  I will never complain about winter again, she thought. With bugs, snakes, and those infernal squawking pests with wings, it's a wonder Frederick even wants to fight for this place.

  Grace listened for a few minutes before shifting her position, but all she could see was green foliage and the occasional flash of color as a bird flew to a new perch. There were only the sounds of nature to fill the jungle; no whispering voices, no cart wheels crunching up the road. The shadows lengthened and she knew sunset wasn’t far off.

  In Arganis, Grace would have been right at home traveling the woods at night. She knew every inch of the area, even in the dark. This was not Arganis, though. She could last the night without water and food, but by morning she'd need sustenance. Already her mouth felt like it was coated in sawdust. She would have to travel some now and wait for dawn.

  Grace climbed down the tree. The road to Dellhurst wasn't safe yet, so she turned away from it to head further into the jungle. She searched the ground carefully, looking for trail signs. Seeing none, she made her own out of rocks and sticks. She took a pointed stone and carved a small sign into the tree trunk of the tree she napped in. If she got lost, she could at least find the road again.

  ~*~*~

  The bugs of Nareroc must have viewed an underfed prisoner as a rare delicacy, because they bit Grace without abandon. Soon, her arms and legs were covered in similar bumps to those on her scalp. The air on the jungle floor was thick and moist, which exhausted Grace quickly, but onward she went. She walked until light failed to penetrate the jungle canopy.

  She helplessly swatted at the swarm of gnats that followed her everywhere. She leaned against a tree trunk, trying to find the energy to climb the tree for the night. Her hands shook as she groped for a handhold to hoist herself up. Her fingers slipped and she tried again…and again and again, until Grace sat in the mud, gnats swarming around her head and her whole body shaking from exhaustion, thirst, and hunger.

  Something moved in the darkness, and Grace gripped her marking stone, hoping it was sharp enough to offer some protection. Out of the darkness a large, furry shape appeared. Two silver eyes penetrated the inky night and Grace relaxed.

  “Now what?” Grace asked as the wolf sat next to her.

  You shall see tomorrow, Diggery said. For now, you must rest. I will guard you.

  Grace curled up into a ball and let the great wolf stand watch.

  Seven

  Robert came to his son the next morning, looking for his decision. However, as soon as Jack had seen Grace's name on the list of Cesernan traitors, he made up his mind. There was no point in helping Robert. Jack couldn't betray the people of the city, especially not for a woman who was completely out of his reach. Grace was god-touched and she would weather this storm better than most. Through inactivity and non-commitment, Jack could help Glenbard do the same. He spent all night thinking up a ploy to help his friends from within Redbank's walls.

  “Well?” Robert stood over Jack like a menacing statue; cold, hard, and unforgiving.

  “I am a recognizable face, and since I was made a magistrate the whole city knows my lineage. I cannot hunt renegades as such.”

  “So you would rather stay he
re like a criminal?”

  “I said I couldn't hunt them myself, but I can still help you.”

  “Oh?” Robert crossed his arms over his chest. “For what price?”

  “A father's love?”

  The comment had the desired effect. Robert narrowed his eyes and blew out a loud snort from his nose. He tapped his foot and looked away from Jack for a moment, trying to collect himself.

  “If that doesn't please you, Father, I'd like my inheritance. For each treacherous snake you find based on my help, a little bit is given to me.”

  “Will you be requiring that blood oath?”

  “One gold piece in exchange for one name. The name of Marcus's second. No oath required. The gods have forsaken me already, but I can still find use for gold.”

  Robert snorted again and laughed. “We have that name already – a man named Thom. Then, of course, there is that urchin he adopted who is still hiding in the temples.”

  Jack shook his head slowly. “Merely a ruse to keep his real second hidden. You're looking for a man named Mac Cooper. He and Marcus staged a coup a few years ago to test the loyalty of the Guild. He 'died' after a most notable performance, but send a guard to talk to Ridley and she'll tell you. Find Mac, and any resistance in Glenbard will unravel.”

  Robert smiled, showing no teeth. He reached into his coin purse and removed a gold coin. “What does this ‘Mac’ fellow look like?” The gold coin flashed in his hand, moving expertly from finger to finger before being enclosed in his palm.

  “Big, built like a brick outhouse, with graying hair now, I'm sure. But he's been living in secret for years. He's bound to have a disguise.”

  “And how did you come by this knowledge?”

  “Like recognizes like. I, too, served Marcus in secret.”

  Robert flipped the coin to Jack, who caught it and held it tightly. His father bought the lie. The man was never much of one for stories and was short on imagination. If Ridley was smart, she would know to play along.

  Jack watched his father turn to leave, but the duke stopped at the door. “Oh…you will be sharing this room soon, so do practice your manners, son.” And with that, he was gone.

  ~*~*~

  Ridley didn't appreciate Captain Erickson and Nathaniel bothering her so early in the morning. They blocked the exit to her tiny room and their presence made the space seem even smaller.

  “We have it on good authority that Marcus had another powerful minion in this city,” Erickson said. His patience was already worn thin by Ridley's refusal to submit to arrest or name any other thieves. “A man named Mac Cooper.”

  “And I told you when you said it the first time, Mac is dead! On whose authority do you get your information?”

  “That is none of your concern.”

  Ridley kept trying to catch Nathaniel’s eye, but he looked firmly at his feet. If they were alone, he would tell her who spread such lies, but maybe that was why they weren't alone. Erickson wasn't stupid. He probably knew Captain Moore was on friendly terms with her now.

  “Mac was killed by the Death Dealer, in the woods, beyond the city walls,” Ridley repeated her first statement.

  “We understand this was just a show, so Mac could hide easier.”

  “Who is telling you this?” Ridley threw her arms up in the air, frustrated with the captain. Nathaniel looked up slowly, and when she caught his eye, he looked down toward his hands. He was making a 'J' shape with his fingers.

  Jack? Jack saw Mac's body! Why in the bloody hell would he say the fiend was still alive? Ridley thought to herself, her mind racing.

  “His Grace, the Duke of Escion, is trying to eradicate wickedness from Glenbard and this ‘Mac’ person is a threat to peace and prosperity. Help us find him. We know you were deep in council with Marcus.”

  That was why. Jack was sending the duke on a wild goose chase. She wasn't sure to what end, but that didn't matter if the duke and his cronies were busy chasing ghosts.

  “What did Marcus tell you about Mac?” Erickson persisted.

  Ridley slapped her thigh. “He never told me anything! I'd heard whispers and rumors that Mac was still alive, but Marcus assured me he was dead. He obviously thought I couldn't be trusted with Guild secrets. If Mac is really alive, then he's probably hiding in the sewers, or else he's hiding in the woods.”

  “You're sure?”

  “It's where Guild members hide when they’re being sought.” Ridley locked eyes with Erickson and waited for him to challenge her. She wanted to look and gauge Nathaniel’s reaction, but didn’t dare.

  “If you’re sure.” Erickson broke the stare first, turning to Nathaniel. “Do you have anything to say?”

  “Will the Princess of Thieves reconsider her current position and turn herself over to the king’s justice?” Nathaniel’s tone was wooden and his face was devoid of emotion, though his eyes cut sidelong to Erickson.

  “No, Captain Moore, I will not reconsider,” she said curtly.

  Nathaniel shrugged and Erickson led them out. Ridley closed the door to her room and sank down on her bed. No one really hid in the sewers, at least when Ridley was still a free woman no one hid down there. Duke Robert would send men in to flush out a ghost, and if they were lucky, they’d find a few urchins sorting through the muck for fallen treasures.

  But what game was Jack playing? He had to be trying to mislead his father, but to what end? Robert would figure things out soon enough. Was Jack trying to buy someone time? But whom? Marcus was on Nareroc as well as Grace, if the duke’s list of traitors was to be believed, and Thom had disappeared. She was stuck in the temples and Jack was imprisoned in Redbank. They had all the time in the world, but no resources.

  Outside, the bell rang, signaling the seven o’clock hour. Soon Father Thorne would be collecting her to help with morning cleaning. Her thoughts whirled around her and for once, she was thankful for the temple labor. It would keep her mind otherwise occupied.

  ~*~*~

  “She was lying,” Erickson snarled as the two captains headed away from the temple of Diggery. “Marcus told her exactly where this Mac fellow is hiding.”

  Nathaniel knew for a fact that Mac was dead. He was just a simple constable on Rogue’s Lane when Mac tangled with Marcus and the Death Dealer. However, if playing along with Jack’s tale meant Thom’s trail remained hidden, Nathaniel wasn’t going to announce he’d seen Mac’s lifeless body when the Thieves’ Guild brought it in the city to bury. Erickson and the duke would learn the truth soon enough.

  “His Grace will probably want to send some men into the sewers and the forest anyway,” Erickson sighed. “I would wager my weekly pay that this Mac fellow is hiding closer with Thom.”

  “You think?”

  “You can’t trust a word the likes of Ridley Hunewn says, not when she’s safe up in the temples.” Erickson stopped their progress as they reached the boundaries of the Golden Road district. Erickson would turn toward Serenity Place while Nathaniel moved on home.

  “I suppose you’re right,” Nathaniel conceded. He had to keep Erickson on his side. The other captain was already beginning to question Nathaniel’s motives, and there was no need to arouse more suspicion. “But what of Anders? He has as much reason to lie.”

  “Maybe, but Jack Anders is alive solely by the mercy of His Grace. Unless he’s a fool with a death wish, why would he lie?”

  “Revenge?” Nathaniel shrugged. “His lady love is doing hard labor on the Nareroc Islands. He isn’t likely to forgive or forget that.”

  The thought of Grace tugged at Nathaniel’s heart. He liked her and her sense of honor and chivalry. Although he wasn’t able to capture her heart, they had parted as friends when she left Glenbard. Anything Jack did now would have to be a ploy for Grace, but how did a wild goose chase in Glenbard help her? Nathaniel wanted to get into Redbank and find out the man’s game, but it was the one place in the whole of Glenbard he’d never get into.

  “Mmm,” Erickson pondered, stroking his chin.
“I’ll relay our conversation with Miss Hunewn to His Grace. If anything else is required, I will send for you. Good day, Captain Moore.”

  “Captain Erickson,” Nathaniel tipped his head and turned toward the Rogue’s Lane guard house.

  His walk back was uneventful, other than a few hungry children running up to beg for food. He handed them some coins and saw them on their way to the market. A few washerwomen muttered when they saw him and a few of the bolder ones made rude gestures, but Nathaniel didn’t bother to acknowledge them.

  The guard house had a few men outside playing a dice game. Inside, Jeffrey manned his clerk’s desk, deflecting an angry innkeeper. Nathaniel immediately recognized the man as Jim Little, owner of the Angel Inn. Jim noticed the captain before he had a chance to duck out and use the back entrance.

  “I want to know what you’re going to do about this upstart, Kara!” Jim snarled.

  “We are working on a solution, Master Little.” Nathaniel attempted to move by him, but Jim stalwartly blocked his way.

  “You once arrested me to get to Marcus, yet now you won’t even lift a finger to stop her! She’s taken up residence in my inn, and all manner of unsavory types are given free reign to just waltz on through!”

  “All manner of unsavory types have always passed through,” Jeffrey quipped from behind his desk.

  “That was different!” Jim retorted, and swung around to turn the full force of his glare on the clerk. “And at least Marcus kept my folk safe! I had to dismiss two of my serving girls and my stable boy for fear this Kara would slit their throats for looking at her wrong. It’s just me, my stable master Mayhew, and my cook Jeremiah now. And Ciro save me if that wench don’t want to kill us the same as she’s killin’ all of Marcus’s followers, and we’re not even Guild members!”

  Kara, always Kara. Nathaniel wanted nothing more than to march into the Angel and clap irons on her, but she was the duke’s pet; his muscle in Rogue’s Lane, where titles and court standing didn’t intimidate like they did with the merchants or the priests. People down there in the dregs responded only to fear, and Kara doled it out to them in large measure. Nathaniel ground his teeth and narrowed his eyes as Jim ranted.